


A Case of Mistaken Identity

by ChickenGoesMoo



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Relationships, Innocent Cloud, Multi, Prophetic Dreams, Rufus Double, Sheltered Cloud, Turk Cloud Strife, Turk-centric, body double, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenGoesMoo/pseuds/ChickenGoesMoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Cloud steps out of Nibelheim he starts having visions and all too realistic dreams that cause him to wake up the whole barrack. And then follow the therapy sessions. Oh, and then he gets mistaken for someone else. Which, normally, that wouldn't seem like that much of a problem. And, well, it wouldn't have been... except for the fact that the someone he is mistaken for is President Shinra's son.</p>
<p>That is when Cloud's life really gets interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is the first story I have posted here, and I haven't really written in a few years, so it will be pretty rusty. I also haven't read over this as much as I normally would. I will add tags later, and I DO plan on there being a romance. I just don't know who it will be with. If you would be so kind, drop me a line and I will consider any ideas you might have. 
> 
> Warnings for this Chapter: Violence, Blood, Gore, Mentions of PTSD, Bad Therapist, Abuse of power, Underage creeping, Extremely AU,
> 
> Enjoy!

The town was burning. 

People were burning.

The smell of cooked flesh and ash was heavy in the air as timber creaked and scaffolding collapsed in on itself, weakened by the heat. Screams were distorted by roaring flames, and haunting shadows of neighbors writhed in their midst. The shadows were barely recognizable in the intense flame, and the screams made them sound inhuman. Like a dying wolf, or the howl of wind through the mountain peaks during a snow storm. 

Cloud realized that, at some point or another, he had wished each and every one of these people ill for their cruelty to him as a child... but he had never meant it like this. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy. 

An enemy that was now standing not five yards from him, blade impaled in the stomach of his mother as she begged Cloud to run, or she tried. Blood garbled from her lips in place of words as her eyes implored him in a way her voice no longer could. 

Then, with a twist of the infamously long blade, her eyes widened. They still look toward him unblinkingly in urgent hope that he would just leave, but as her body jostled and fell to the ground he knew she was no longer able to see him. She now looked desperately up at the stars in the same fashion, almost like she hoped they would run too. 

Cloud could hardly comprehend the notion that she might be dead, and he hadn't been able to do a thing to save her. 

The only person that cared for him in the world was dead. And the only person he admired more than her was holding the blade stained with her own blood. 

It took everything in Cloud's terror filled mind to calm himself as the great General rounded on him with a maniac laugh and an insane glint in his eyes. 

After all, it was just a dream, and soon enough he would wake to the sound of his drill Sargent shouting them out of bed with rude words and crass insults. 

For once in Cloud's life that rude awakening couldn't come soon enough. 

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

The sound of the slowly ticking clock was all that could be heard in the room, other than the superficial scratching of a pen on paper. Cloud often wondered what Dr. Powell was writing about in these sessions, because Cloud gave the squat, toad-like man very little to write about. They generally just sat there like an awkward couple on their first date. When the hour was up, Cloud would stand and leave without a glance backwards. Then they would meet again the next week, if not sooner depending on the severity of his all too frequent dreams. 

Perhaps the man liked to draw, Cloud thought. Then, he wondered what kind of sick things the clearly unhinged therapist would draw, and shivered, wanting desperately to gag over the imagery supplied by his wandering mind. 

"One of your bunk mates told me you were screaming again last night." The man said in his creaky voice with a smirk as he pushed the gold framed glasses up his bulbous, wide-nostrilled nose. When they slid too far down his fat snout it sounded like the man was snoring, which unnerved Cloud more than the ticking of the clock. 

Cloud had a feeling that the sick man joined ShinRa's medical staff as a therapist because he got off on things like mental trauma, and the sight of a once strong soldier being brought to his knees by ghosts of war. Cloud personally wondered if the company placed him there in hopes that he would drive some of their soldiers over the edge, just so they wouldn't have to pay for 'damaged goods.' 

Not that Cloud saw anyone as damaged goods, except maybe himself, but the other day he heard about a soldier returning from Wutai because he was emotionally unable to continue. A day after talking to Doctor Powell he was found in his apartment, suicide note written neatly in his own scrawl, and his personal blade imbedded in the wall behind his broken body. 

Cloud shook himself from those dark rumors and responded with a lazy shrug. "I wouldn't know," He countered, feigning boredom as he looked up at the clock. Only forty more minutes left in the session. 

"Was it a nightmare?" The man asked, his leer deepening. He seemed to feed off of any of the details Cloud gave him, like some kind of demon. 

"I don't remember." Cloud lied. They sat silently, the man's eyes bored down on him expectantly, and Cloud fidgeted under the scrutiny. He unconsciously twitched his hand, but stopped himself from reaching up and running it through his spikes. It was a tell Cloud had, and he knew it would give himself away if he gave into the sudden urge in front of the obnoxiously observant man. Unfortunately enough the therapist noticed it anyway and beamed. 

"I heard you were screaming the General's name." The man gloated with sadistic glee. "An wet dream, maybe? You are of the age that-"

"Stop!" Cloud bellowed, his face bright red, with anger and embarrassment at the subject at hand. He was fifteen, but very…sheltered when it came to certain subjects. Like any small town country boy with no friends might be. He grew up with a single mother who was too busy working and providing for them to ever broach the subject with her son, and he never learned about it in the small town school... but he knew what the term 'wet dream' meant from the way the other boys in his rooms talked about the scantily clad women in magazines, and he learned more than he ever wanted to when he walked in on Mike (one of his dorm mates) watching what Cloud had thought was a horror vid till he got a closer look. Oh, how wrong he was. No amount of mind bleach would purge that sight from his virgin mind. 

But what confused Cloud was what the man was inferring. It just didn't make sense. Because everyone knew you couldn't do THAT with two men. Could you? None of his roommates talked about it, anyway, and they talked about a lot of things of that… ahem… nature. 

However, Cloud decided he might not want to point that out to the already unhinged man and shifted in his chair, face starting to colorin embarrassment, shock and even a little bit of anger. 

Sadly, the man saw how uncomfortable this conversation was making Cloud and decided to latch onto the subject. 

"Come on, don't be coy. A lot of boys your age join ShinRa in hopes they might get to see the little Silver General standing at attention." The man leaned forward in his seat, his face like the devil as he leered down at the small blonde who was chewing his lip. Another nervous habit he had when he was extremely uncomfortable. Which he very much was. 

"Tell me, Cloud, have you ever wondered how big his blade really is beneath all that leather?" He purred in a way that would have gotten him fired for sexual harassment towards a minor if Cloud actually understood what was being suggested. 

However, with how Cloud's mind was currently working, the question did little more than stump him. Because everyone knew Sephiroth's blade was an exact six foot, zero. It was in all the magazines and interviews about the man. 

He furrowed his brow as Doctor Powell leaned forward, eyeing him up and down. "Have you ever wondered what it might feel like having that blade pushed inside you, sliding back and fourth, back and fourth?"

Cloud's mind snapped. His eyes widened as he was pulled back into the nightmare of the night before. 

The blade impaling itself into his mother's unprotected abdomen. Imbedded there till it was shifted and gravity took hold, drawing her body down the long, glistening blade with a grotesque slurp till her lifeless body fell onto the bloody dirt path she use to walk daily for so many years. 

Cloud stood, breathing heavily and clutching his head in pain as the memory – no, it had to be a dream – surfaced to the front of his mind. Cloud ignored the perverse jibes coming from the sick doctor as he ran from the room. He needed air. He needed to breath. 

So he ran and didn't stop till his mind caught up with him. Which was when he reached the edge of the compound. 

When he stopped just outside of the main Shinra building, he realized that he forgot his ID card in his room, his coat in the therapist's rooms, and he was out of uniform. And it was raining. 

It was required for him to be out of uniform for those little sessions, but Cloud had little to his name, especially with his roommates ruining what remained of his wardrobe. He looked down to see that he was wearing one of his only outfits, which happened to be what was left of his formal wear. The black, long sleeved turtleneck did little against the heavy rain, and his white pants were so wet that if one looked close enough they would be able to see what color his briefs were. Which were embarrassingly enough, blue. 

Cloud sighed and began walking to the main building, hoping he could convince one of the secretaries to help him. The girl that was normally working at this time of the evening was a little sweet on him, so hopefully he could catch her before she was due home. 

Cloud ran a nervous hand through his hair, finally giving in to the habit that gave him his notorious spikes when his many chocobo-licks were ruffled. It was so wet out, though, that it plastered itself to his head in a slicked back manner instead of it's usual messy blond nest. 

He rounded the corner and picked up his pace when he saw Sarah packing her things up to head home. 

He waved at her trying to get her attention, but the night was too dark, and the glare on the inside of the window was too bright for her to see him through. 

He was running so fast, and he was so distracted, that he didn't hear the tires squeal to life behind him, nor did he hear the roar of an old engine till it nearly collided with him. 

Cloud ran into the side of the vehicle when it came to a stop, dazed at its sudden appearance. For a second he thought that maybe he ran into the incoming traffic, but then he realized that he was standing on a sidewalk. 

Just as he took a step away from what he suspected may be a drunken driver, the doors of the white van slid open and numerous men grabbed at him, wrenching him inside as he flailed at the sudden manhandling. Dead weight did little to stop them, as he was severely underweight. Biting and scratching at the wave of hands only got him boxed in the ears before he was completely ensconced in the darkness of the windowless van when the door slid shut with a click behind him. 

Cloud continued to struggle as several men pounced on him, forcing him to the floor of the van with little to no effort. 

The man driving just laughed at him as he looked at the scene through the rear view mirror. 

"We have the Shinra brat subdued, boss. What now?" One of the goons asked, his hands a little further up Cloud's thigh than he was comfortable with. 

"You evaded us for far too long, Rufus." The driver laughed.

Cloud frowned. ShinRa brat? Rufus? What was going on?

Cloud tried to voice his confusion, but the moment he opened his mouth a sock was stuffed in it. Unfortunately, it was a used sock that smelled worse than Drill Sargent Davidson's breath. 

Cloud gagged and almost asphyxiated on the bile that threatened to come up. He was actually thankful for the fist that struck him into unconsciousness, if only for him to escape that taste.


	2. Kidnapped Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is held for ransom as Rufus Shinra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you to all of you who commented, liked, or even viewed! I am so pumped about this, and I am glad to see some of you are too. Just as a warning, this story will have several events out of order on a normal time line, and the events are twisted in a way that makes me happy. So anyone out there who post comments about timelines being wrong, ages being off, and events being completely wrong will be referred back to this note. Also, I didn't get around to proofing this as much as I would have liked, but mistakes happen, and I will not be near my computer all day tomorrow, which is when I wanted to update.
> 
> Also, on the lines of romances, I have already had one person ask me for a Cloud/Rufus and Cloud/Tseng. Though I am really not picky, so if you would like to leave your input, I will at least try to write a fluffy chapter with your favored pair. 
> 
> Also, someone mentioned in a comment that they would like a reappearance of the therapist. I had not planned on even thinking about him again, but when it was mentioned I began hatching a little plot line just for you. It may not come about anytime soon, but it will be there :)
> 
> Oh, And I don't own Final Fantasy.

When Cloud woke up in a strange room, strapped to a wooden chair that was bolted to the floor, he tried to convince himself that it was just another one of his dreams. 

But that ultimately didn’t work.

His head was pounding, but he was awake enough to recognize a camcorder blinking at him from a few yards away, in a room that looked like it belonged in a b grade horror movie. The burly masked man Cloud recognised as the getaway driver from the unexpected kidnapping stood next to him, listing ridiculous demands at the camera, but Cloud attempted to block that part out. The more he listened to it, the more he realised that his chances of the company actually paying them off were slim. Even if he was Rufus Shinra.

Behind the camera and the shadowy figure operating it was what appeared to be the rest of the crew, all watching the ransom video being made like they had nothing better to do. Every once in awhile one would shout out their hate for Shinra, or throw garbage at him from beyond the vision of the video feed.

Cloud had attempted to dodge the first few projectiles, till he was forced to accept that the bonds that held him in place made movement impossible. From that point onward, he accepted that by the end of the video he would be covered head to toe in bruises and food wrappers. Which was humiliating, but still better than being dead.  
Beyond the rowdy crew, paint was peeling and plaster was chipping from the walls. Several support beams were collapsing in on themselves, while spider webs seemed to be the only things trying to hold the old, brick building together. 

Cloud blearily blinked up at his kidnapper when he realized he was being approached, and the long monologue was finally at an end. Cloud noticed belatedly that the man was palming an impressive looking gun. Then again, most guns looked impressive to a person tied and gagged in a hostile situation. Kicking out with all his might only caused the chair to rock precariously from one side to the other as he shouted at the man to stop from behind the gag . Because the idiot was going to kill the wrong person. Because Cloud wasn't Rufus Shinra.

Of course, the large man probably wouldn't have been able to understand what he was shouting even if he wasn't gagged. He didn't seem too bright.

None the less, the man did recognize that Cloud was awake at his sudden fit, and reached out to caress his face mockingly while addressing the camera with a time, date, and location for the pickup before grabbing Cloud by the neck and hitting his temple with the butt of the gun.

As Cloud’s mind slipped back into darkness, he recognized the moronic terrorist threatening the life of Rufus ShinRa if his demands were not met. 

Just before Cloud blacked out he wondered how fast these men would kill him if they knew who he was, or wasn't as the case may be. He quickly decided that the safest thing to do would be to play along with their delusions long enough to escape, and hope that they didn't kill him until then. 

XoxoxoxoxoxoX

When he opened his eyes again, he knew he was in a dream. Because while he had no memory of how he got to this exact location, his mind seemed to recognize things he knew it shouldn't have. Like the dawning comprehension that he was in Wutai, despite the fact Cloud knew he had never been there before in his life. His mind began filling in gaps with false memories of a war he never fought in. He struggled to absorb all of the knowledge of another’s life. 

Dead soldiers from both sides surrounded him, some he recognized as people he had only ever seen dead, but Cloud somehow felt like he knew them for a lifetime. His suddenly split consciousness mourned over the loss of names and faces that he hadn't thought were known till the moment his eyes perused their broken forms. Somewhere inside his dream, he was provided with these memories. Memories that weren't his own, but still were. And they felt so real that from that moment forward Cloud stopped second guessing them. Because this must be reality. And he knew that he was no longer the little boy from Nibelheim.

A long, red leather coat blew around his ankles majestically as he observed the destruction with what was left of his men. The small part of his consciousness that was still hanging on, the part that was just Cloud, found the color extremely gaudy. That thought was quickly quenched by another consciousness that wondered why he was thinking about a coat when so many of his men were dead. And his coat was lovely, thank you very much. 

He observed the scene again, the strange voice in the back of his head going silent as an understanding was met and realization dawned on the red coated man. 

The resistance was defeated. The struggle was over.

Except it wasn't. 

There was still a dull ache in his shoulder. One that wouldn't go away. One that suggested weakness and mortality, like the kind he witnessed during the fight. A fear that he had never been burdened with before made his heartbeat quicken, and breath speed up as his mind finally comprehended the naked truth that the battle could have ended much differently. 

Death, dying, he had never really thought much about it before now. He never even considered it. Never even accepted that it might happen to him one day. It was so mundane. So plebeian to a man who was treated like a God for so long that he actually began to believe it himself. 

He reached up to touch his flawed shoulder, perhaps to check if it miraculously healed itself. Maybe the potion finally did its job? Maybe he was healed? But, irritatingly enough, it hadn't, and it wasn't. 

The bundle of swollen, mangled and rotting flesh sparked an ember of emotional and physical pain as his slender finger brushed the wound in remembrance of the hubris that brought him to this point. The need to win. Needing to be out from beneath the weight of a true God’s oppressive shadow. That was what caused his slow and steady spiral. 

He couldn't get the idea out of his head that maybe, just maybe, his sparring partner had done this on purpose. Perhaps the blade was poisoned? And that thought just ate him from the inside out, because he knew it would be easier for his mind to accept the betrayal of a friend than his own body's failing. His own mortality. His own insecurities of always being so flawed, and of course the one person he never wanted to show weakness to had exploited it so effortlessly. 

He must have known. 

He must have!

But they were friends, weren't they...?

Weren't they?! 

His mind pulled out of the reverie when his heightened hearing recognized the echo of a gun cocking behind him. Turning so fast that his coat snapped at the back of his legs, he was surprised to meet the gaze of one of his own men leveling a gun directly at the crisscrossed straps that held his (ridiculously) red coat in place, just above his stuttering heart.

Another soldier pulled a shimmering blade out of a long dead enemy to take a ready stance. And slowly, he recognized all of the men behind them taking similar poses, all looking ahead with a grim determination. 

He knew that their sights were set on him, but his brain was still refusing to accept it. They all probably took the overly exaggerated glance behind him as him feigning a cocky brashness that he just didn't feel, but always seemed to exude, even in the worst of situations. As he feared, nothing was behind him but a burning enemy camp. He glanced back at them with a cock of his eyebrow and twitch of his lips. Only someone who really knew him would have seen the false bravado for what it was. Confusion. Pain. Betrayal. 

Still, the men stared at him unblinkingly, weapons raised, but, whether in attack or defense, not even they seemed to know yet. 

It was an image he realized he would have laughed at months ago, but it now brought an unusual stab of fear deep in his mind. A primal survival instinct that he never indulged in before the injury suddenly surfaced to the forefront of his mind, but he held it at bay, preventing himself from lashing out like the wounded animal he had become. He may have lost his feelings of immortality, but he wouldn't lose his sanity. Not yet.

He looked at his men, bewildered at the betrayal and shocked at the sudden turn of events, but he wouldn't let it play across his features. Narrowing his eyes at men he had spent so long with, he recalled times when he had bought drinks for them after victories, and gave glorious speeches for their fallen friends. Each and every man had a story, no matter how insignificant it sometimes seemed in the great scheme of things.

He knew which ones had loved ones back home, and who had a ring in his sock for the proposal when things settled. The faces of each and every photo they carried in the breast pocket of their uniforms was burned into his memory. Photos of what they were fighting for. A photo that would soon mean nothing if they continued down this path. 

"Sorry sir. Orders are orders." Corporal Jackson said calmly. A man with a wife, and a young son who had asked for his autograph once was now talking to him like they had never gone through the perils of war together. Like they didn't even know each other. He could almost feel the barrier that kept him sane slowly cracking as pressure built in his head. 

"The higher ups decided you have become a liability. And… well, we happen to agree with them after seeing..." he nodded at the marred shoulder before leveling his gun again. A gun he had named Rosie, after a loyal pet dog he had as a child. 

Another man nodded, a newer recruit who appeared rightly nervous. "We were told to make it look like a casualty of war. And to be honest, with the way your looking lately we felt we would be doing you a favor."

And just like Rosie, they were planning on putting him down. 

Like an animal. 

Like a monster. 

He let his rage boil, and fester like the wound. A hand vainly made a grab at his head, trying to calm the mounting pressure, but it was too late. The barrier had cracked, and the pressure was only released when an insane laugh bubbled from his lips as his hand still cradled half of his face. He knew he looked like a madman, but he just couldn't bring himself to care as his laughter got louder, and he threw his head back as the dam broke completely. 

None of them deserved to live for turning on him, and he would make sure their dreams of a peaceful world would die with them. The happy family's they would have returned to, unknowing of this betrayal, would feel his pain when the empty caskets and dreams were buried deep within the earth. 

He shook his head, a dramatic sigh escaping his smirking lips before his voice (that was definitely not Cloud’s) crooned some (nonsensical) poetry that (Cloud’s consciousness was sure he had never read before, but...) seemed fitting for the moment. 

"My soul, corrupted by vengeance, Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey." With an (exaggerated) flourish (that Cloud knew he was personally incapable of), a bright red blade appeared in one hand, and a ball of flame in the other as he took a ready stance before finishing the lines in a soft but deadly sigh that had several of the men leaning forward to hear. 

"In my own salvation," he lobbed the fire at the gunman and smiled when he erupted in an inferno of screeching flame and flesh. He turned to the other men, who faltered in shock at the sight just long enough for him to charge onto their ranks and render three more dead before they could regroup. 

"And your eternal slumber." 

With one more bloody lunge, the world faded. Cloud’s mind fought the terrifying insanity and broke free as the dreamscape shattered like glass.

And then, Cloud was free falling into darkness, no longer encumbered by the weight of another’s insecurities, insanity, and that ridiculous red leather coat. 

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

Cloud woke with a gasp, horrified at the emotions that he felt as he had been forced to kill in his own dream. Emotions that were far too big for his young mind to comprehend, yet it was forced to, still fought to find a home within his body, causing him to tremble and sweat. Memories that were not his own flickered and faded as he tried to pull on them. Thoughts that weren't his danced just out of his reach. Names of men he had never met completely faded as his mind began to rouse from the haze. But the imagery of the dream remained vivid. People had tried to kill him. But he had killed them first.

No... not Cloud... but a man in a red coat… who was injured… and liked... poetry?

Cloud shook his head, realizing that trying to make sense of his dreams would likely only drive him deeper into whatever psychosis it was that birthed them. Though there was little else to do in his cell. 

He had been held hostage for several days now, and had very little in the way of visitors, and even less food. 

They still seemed to believed he was the son of ShinRa, and he had yet to find the time to correct them, what with a gag in his mouth more often than not. Which was a plus. 

Well, not the gag, but if they had removed it and forced him to talk, they would have realized that they had kidnapped a country boy. And while Cloud knew very little of Rufus Shinra, he doubted the man had a country accent.

So, because they still thought he was a Shinra, they wouldn't dare harm their only bargaining chip in hopes of a ransom. A ransom that Cloud knew would never be payed. 

By now, the real Rufus ShinRa and his goons were probably watching the tape for the fifth time in utter confusion as to why a bunch of crooks were threatening them with an obviously fake kidnapping. That, or they suspected a setup of some kind. A ruse to throw them off of the real crime that was yet to be committed.

They obviously wouldn't have suspected such a thing if they ever actually met the supposed 'resistance group.'

A shout and clanging let Cloud know that he wasn't going to be alone for too much longer. Moments passed, and the noise grew louder till the doors of his cell flung open and a pale dark haired man was roughly shoved to the ground and spat upon. 

Cloud tried to stand to help the man, but was only reminded that he was still tethered to the chair when his raw wrists met with the tight bonds of restraints. He winced, but remained silent, watching helplessly as the stranger was roughly grabbed and held taut between two men about three times his size. He hung there limply as a third man repeatedly punched him in the stomach. Cloud struggled, horrified at the brutality. He shouted at them to stop behind the tape in his mouth till he heard the man make a wet moan as a loud crack echoed through the empty space. Blood began to drip between already bloodied lips and Cloud froze in his seat at the realization of what such a noise might mean.

But the men didn't even pause at the sound.

Cloud watched on in horror as the man was stripped from his dark suit. A wire was taped to his chest over lean muscle and dark bruises. That very wire lead to a small broken device that Cloud hoped against all hope was what he had heard breaking earlier, and not the unknown man’s ribs. They threw a couple more punches at his exposed chest, and Cloud watched as the man's lean muscle rippled from beneath disarmingly smooth skin as he absorbed each and every blow effortlessly.

Despite this, the man’s body was covered in more bruises than Cloud had ever endured, and that was saying a lot, considering on his third day of training he ended up in the infirmary after getting cornered by some Second Class bullies. 

When all was removed from the man except his boxers, shoes, and socks, the stranger was thrown down on the floor again, bracing himself on his arms and knees in a defeated posture, like a sinner praying for salvation. 

Cloud was so focused on the appearance of the other victim that he didn't even notice the leader of the gang walk into the cell, till a dark chuckle rumbled through the room like thunder.

"I told you that rescue attempts were futile." The masked man prowled forwards and lifted the slim, dark man off the floor by his ruffled ponytail. The bruised man clenched his teeth as his head was wrenched back, and he glowered at the thug with an intensity that Cloud only saw him his dreams. But other than that, his face remained stoic and almost bored. 

The leader backhanded the man, a signet ring leaving a shallow gash across his cheek. 

"I warned you of what I would do if you attempted rescue without meeting my demands." The man warned as the goons cheered excitedly in the background. Thankfully, all attention was off Cloud for the moment, and that none of the idiots were throwing things at him this time. 

"My department reviewed your terms with a fine toothed comb. We deemed your demands unreasonable." The man said in a droll monotone, his black eyes shifting slightly to meet Cloud’s. It shocked Cloud slightly that the man had no accent. He looked foreign, and exotic, but his voice sounded almost robotic. The intensity of the look he was being sent did little to sooth Cloud’s worries that the man wasn't going to reveal him as a fake to the lunatics.

The lack of eye contact and attention only served to irritate the leader of the thugs, who backhanded the foreign man again. It surprised Cloud that the man quite literally turned the other cheek without flinching before looking back at the main thug emotionlessly. 

"And what department of ShitRa do you belong to?" The man hissed, grabbing the back of the man's hair in a tighter hold and wrenching the neck back at a dangerous angle. 

"The department of administrative research,” the man responded, voice tense as his vocal cords were stretched, but he seemed visibly unbothered by this. “I am Tseng, the head of said division, and Rufus is my charge to some capacity." The man stated it as though it was common knowledge. Cloud didn't even know such a department existed till now, though he knew from the way it was delivered with a slight glance in Cloud’s direction that Tseng knew Cloud was obviously not Rufus. 

Which begged the question of what the odd man was doing there in the first place. 

The masked thug just shook his head and frowned. "He WAS your charge. I told you I meant business, and now I’m gonna show you!” The man nodded to one of his underlings, who pulled out a gun and leveled it at Cloud in a way that reminded him of the nightmare. He closed his eyes and let out a pathetic whimper that had everyone in the room laughing. Heck, even Tseng smirked at the noise, though his reaction went unnoticed for the most part. ”I have a reputation to uphold, and I am sure a head of department would get me more than this scrawny little brat is worth.”

Cloud began struggling, looking toward the strange Wutian man in desperate hopes that he wasn't going to just sit back and watch as Cloud was murdered. He even begged them to stop and reconsider, but his muffled yelps fell on uncaring ears. The clinical man only nodded as much as he could with his head being wrenched back, and before Cloud’s uncomprehending mind could register what was going on, a shot rang out. 

For a moment, Cloud hoped that the thug had been shot, or even the foreign man. It always happened in the movies that way. What, with the good guy being threatened at gunpoint, then someone comes in and shoots the bad guys last minute. But Cloud saw the smoking barrel of the gun in the hands of a smirking underling, and when Cloud looked down, he saw blood spurting from a smoking wound in his shoulder almost surreally. 

Things never happen like they do in the movies.

He didn't even feel the pain yet, but his brain was catching up. Oh, how it was catching up. 

The boss let his hand untangle from the mysterious department head's hair as he moved towards the door. "Let's leave him here to bleed out. I am sure Mr. Tseng would love to be alone with his charge during these final moments."

The others laughed as Cloud slouched forwards in his chair, trying to keep his breath even as the pain saturated his mind with panic and soft keening noises escaped his muffled mouth.

He was going to die here. His mother was going to die. His mother wouldn't be able to survive without the meager bills he sent home at the end of every month. He was going to fail her. 

Cloud eyed the stranger wearily as Tseng stood and approached him, kneeling between Cloud's tethered legs, preventing him from kicking out at the stranger. The man looked into his eyes with a dead expression and reached up to rip the tape off of his mouth in one quick, yank. 

Cloud spit out the balled up cloth with a shriek of pain that the man calmly ignored. 

Then Tseng stated the most obvious thing in the world to him. 

"You are not Rufus ShinRa."

Cloud bit back a rather colorful and sarcastic response, deciding that it might be a better call to just agree by way of a head shake. After all, this man was a whole lot more threatening than a man covered in bruises ought to be. Perhaps because of the way he showed no signs of pain, despite the fact that Cloud now noticed Tseng's left arm was at a rather odd angle. A normal person would have been out cold after that kind of beating, but obviously the man didn't seem to register such things. 

"Who do you work for?" The man asked, his hand drifting to the bullet hole ruining Cloud's last nice shirt. He knew his pants were beyond saving too, what with all of the blood speckling them. 

He wondered belatedly if this was what he would be buried in. Then he realized that he probably wouldn't even get buried in this situation. Probably just thrown in the dumps for the monsters to feast on. That wasn't a nice thought. To live all the way up to this point in his life just to become monster food? No, he couldn't let that happen. But he couldn't really stop it from happening, either.

Cloud didn't know how to respond to the man's question, and part of him didn't even care to. He was going to die anyway. But it would be nice to say something now that the gag had been removed. 

He hesitated while trying to gain his breath and slow down his frantic train of thought. 

He hesitated too long. Two nimble fingers dug themselves into his bullet wound and twisted, wrenching a shrill scream from Cloud, despite how out of breath he thought he was. This man was going to torture a dying kid, for Gia’s sake!?

The man didn't move his fingers, just stared at a trembling Cloud with his empty black eyes. "For whom do you work? Was this a trap? Was it a setup? And why?"

Cloud sobbed and shook his head, trying to give the monster his best defiant glower as he was pinned beneath the man’s unrelenting fingers. "I am… was... a Soldier Cadet. Cloud Strife." He forced out between shockwaves of pain and gasps of breath as he felt the fingers begin to probe again. Ironically enough, Cloud’s wound appeared to be in the same vicinity as the one from his dream. He wondered sarcastically to himself if that meant he was psychic.

The man tilted his head to the side in what might have been confusion. Cloud wasn't sure though. The man’s entire face seemed to be an emotionless mask, and he wondered if the man even knew how to emote properly, or if he had to rehearse what little he could display before a mirror. 

Cloud was so distracted by his train of thought that he didn't scream as loud as he thought he might when the man retracted his fingers. Between the first and second bloody fingers of the retracting hand was a small, round bullet. 

At that sight, Cloud realized that what he had first interpreted as torture, may have actually been aid. Though, the lack of a bullet in his chest made the blood flow much more freely. And then he began to grow faint with panic and loss of blood.

Tseng tossed the bullet behind him before twisting on his knees slightly to take one shoe off. The heel of said shoe was a lot higher than it really needed to be, and with a quick snap, the plastic fell away from leather and revealed an alcove in the soul containing a bright materia that lit up Tseng's eyes ominously, and an earpiece. 

He quickly put the small gadget in his ear before announcing to the empty room, "Reno, have someone look up the name of Cloud Strife and report back to me immediately with the findings." 

There was a silence as Tseng looked away from Cloud and stood, walking away from the bloody teen to observe what must have been the slums from a barred factory window. He tossed the little green orb up and down with his obviously dislocated hand, not once revealing the pain he must have been in by doing such a thing. 

Cloud faintly heard what must have been chatter from the other side of the earpiece, but he wasn't really sure. His world was fading in and out, the room was spinning. He couldn't quite focus on anything other than the numbing pain pulsing in his shoulder and the dripping of blood. 

The materia came to a halt, gripped firmly in Tseng's hand as he rounded on the boy with his emotionless features when the earpiece stopped chattering. "Are you sure?"

The radio like chirps continued as Tseng rounded on the boy, kicking his left leg back and easily drawing a small shiv from the remaining shoe's heel. 

Cloud saw him coming, and tried to pull away, but he was too tired. The blood loss was making him light headed, and all he could do was lean into the touch as the man rested a hand on his burning cheek. 

"We have very little on file about you. Who are you, really?" Tseng asked in a calmer tone. In the state Cloud was in, he could almost mistake it for compassion. 

Cloud whimpered softly when the hand shifted and his chin was gripped forcefully between the foreign man's strong fingers and his half lidded, blue eyes were involuntarily made to look up into those pitch black orbs.

"I’m a nobody."

This caused a smirk from the other man, which was more terrifying than the emotionless mask he had worn up to this point. "Well, for being a nobody, you certainly do have an uncanny resemblance to somebody." He forced Cloud's head left, then right, observing it from all angles. "Hmm, I do believe that with a little work we might be able to use you to our advantage."

Cloud did not like how that sounded coming from Tseng's bloodstained lips, but before he could find the strength to comment on it, the forgotten shank flashed through the air, severing Cloud's bindings quickly, and with a deadly efficiency. Cloud winced when he collapsed onto the floor as Tseng impatiently upended the chair. 

"Reno? Prepare the extraction team. I'm coming out with the package. You can activate the distraction in three." Cloud’s foggy consciousness almost didn't register when he was gripped around the waist and pulled up and against the man's broad, still shirtless chest as materia was pressed into his shoulder painfully.

A dull glow emitted from it for a moment, before Tseng pulled it away to reveal that the wound was clotted and healing like it had been there for several days, rather than several minutes. It didn’t do much for the blood loss, though, and Cloud’s vision jumped when he was jostled, making him feel sick.

"Two." Tseng wrapped his arms around the dazed blonde, turning him and lifting him over his shoulder like a sack of chocobo feed before settling him there comfortably. Well, comfortably for Tseng. Cloud doubted he would ever be comfortable in such a position, but his own faintness forced him into complacency.

"One." Terrified and still not quite sure what was going on, Cloud braced himself at the sound of Tseng’s voice. But nothing happened. 

The half dressed man soothed Cloud's adrenaline shaking thigh with one hand unconsciously, smiling to himself at the antics of the skittish, little, blonde captive that clinged drunkenly at his back.

"Zero."

The building rocked to one side, as an explosion threatened to collapse it. The bars on the window and the glass fell away and shattered as the brick holding it crumbled in the intensity of the not too distant blast. 

A sudden thruming noise followed, and Cloud was able to twist his body around enough to make out the shape of a helicopter off in the distance, quickly getting bigger. 

"You may want to hold tight. I am about to jump, and I need to focus in order not to fall short. I will drop you if you hinder my progress." 

Cloud couldn't help it. His already shocked body began shaking even harder as he fumbled to get a tighter grip on the man who he still had a bad feeling about, despite the fact he apparently seemed to be saving his life.

A hand once again patted his thigh, but it did little to calm Cloud’s suspicions, or his racing mind. 

What did help was when Cloud passed out at the sight of how high up they were as a rope ladder dropped in front of the hole in the wall, blowing violently in the wind. Though, Cloud liked to convince himself that it was blood loss, and the stress of being kidnapped from his kidnappers that caused the sudden blackout.

Cloud was out so abruptly that he didn't even know if they made it to the helicopter or not. And he silently prayed to Gaia that he wouldn't be dropped for going limp in the other man's arms.


	3. Not Dead... Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters! Yay! Once again, didn't get to read through this nearly as much as I would have liked, but I really need to get going. I wont be back until late tonight, and I wanted to leave you guys with an update before then. And I don't own anything.
> 
> Enjoy!

A sobbing cry was wrenched from Cloud's dry lips when he finally regained consciousness. In his most recent dream, he had been falling through a church's roof. In real life, he had been thrown bodily onto a well carpeted floor, which had caused the garbled cry of pain and shock at being jolted awake so suddenly. It took a while for Cloud's racing heart to settle, his mind finally catching up to the fact that he did not plummet to his probable death, and was now panting like a fish out of water on the floor of some posh office building. 

He braced himself on his hands and knees as he observed what he could, trying to use the details to help cement in his mind that this was real. He was awake. 

It didn't work as well as he would have liked, considering he didn't recognise the room at all. Shouldn't he have been waking up on the hard, cement floor of his small, cadet shared living quarters? 

Where he suspected his bed should have been sat a large, well polished mahogany desk, and instead of the hard, unforgiving floor, a soft carpet had padded his fall. He brushed his hand over its plush texture in confusion before looking around the strange room with mounting alarm that he might have still been trapped in his dream. 

Abstract paintings hung around the room, trying to cover the bland, cream walls like one might see in a doctor's office, and a solitary window rested along the right wall, glowing faintly with the light of distant street lamps below. It felt like any lifeless workplace might feel, except for the fact that Cloud was now in it, dried blood flaking into the perfectly fluffy white carpeting, reminding him of the clouds he had just fallen through after killing… someone important… and… plummeting to his death? 

Why was there always death in his dreams?

In the distance, he heard several voices talking, but he wasn't yet able to make out if they were one of his visions or reality till he processed what they were saying, and he was still too distracted to be able to pay attention to that. 

Cloud clutched his head, a blurry image of a man attacking him resurfacing. Or was it a monster? It said it was a monster, but why did it have such a kind, human voice? Why did he feel a sense of loss, pain and anger when he was forced to kill it? Why did it make him kill it when it was obvious that he didn't want to? 

Cloud looked down at his shaking hands and realized that tears were escaping his eyes. His heart was breaking, but he had awoken too abruptly, and his mind couldn't grasp the details of the dream before they crumbled like sand in his desperate attempts to hold onto them. He was sure he could remember it if he could just remember what the man or monster looked like. If he could just hear that voice again, he might remember more of what it had been saying. 

"Reno, keep him contained to this room. I'll be back in a moment with the Vice President, and we will discuss our options." Tseng's voice spoke, making Cloud's slowly calming heart skip a beat in remembrance of what had just happened. He froze.

There was a helicopter. And an explosion. That was real— not a dream for once— and he had been shot. Or had that been the dream? Maybe this was just a different dream. That must have been it, because nothing so terrible would happen in Cloud’s boring life. Sure, his life up to this point sucked, but never to this extent. 

Sadly, the all too real throbbing in Cloud’s shoulder told a different story, reluctant as he was to believe it. His hand drifted to the terrifyingly real scabbed wound in remembrance, and he winced at the images that flooded his mind. It was almost too much like one of his action packed dreams that Cloud wished he could mistake it for one. He tried so hard to convince himself that it really had been. He wished he could wake up back in his barrack, screaming his lungs out before his bunk mates beat him into silence. Seriously, that would have been preferable to what seemed to be going on lately. 

"Might want to get a change of clothes too, boss man!" A second, unfamiliar voice called. 

Cloud quickly overcame the fog in his mind with a shake of his head, pushing the clouded memory of the dream as far from the forefront of his mind as possible while he tried to assess his predicament. Dream or no dream, Cloud was up to his knees in tonberry dung.

He rolled over, using his elbows to prop himself up as he kicked himself away from whoever had thrown him. He guessed it had been Tseng, but the apathetic man was already gone, and in his place was a new man Cloud had never seen before, who's large grin more than made up for his partner's lack of one. The man was in the process of lazily kicking the door shut behind him with a loud but ominous bang, leaving a scuff mark on its well polished wood. Cloud despondently guessed that the figure standing before him was Reno, as he inched further back onto the carpet, and away from the newest possible threat. 

The thick carpet made it difficult to move, and Cloud's shaking limbs and jilted crab-walking did very little but make the shadowed figure guarding the exit chuckle in amusement. It was a cold sound, and it sent an unwanted shiver down Cloud's spine.

Sure, he had been kidnapped by a gang of some sort, but none of those men scared Cloud nearly as much as Tseng had for some strange reason, and this new figure was having a similar effect on Cloud's sleep deprived mind. The other group had tied him up, gagged him, starved him, and even shot him, for goodness sake, so he shouldn't be this frightened of the people that technically saved him-- but Cloud learned quickly to trust his instincts. Instincts that were currently telling him he should have listened to his mother when she warned him against going to the big city to follow a silly dream. 

Sure, he knew the man with dark hair and eyes had technically saved him... maybe… but whoever it was that prowled behind him was very far from being the indifferent figure Tseng made himself out to be. 

Brilliant, acidic blue-green eyes shimmered at Cloud, half lidded in an amused sneer. The figure was hunched carelessly with his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his dangerously low hanging, black pants. In fact, a sliver of white elastic was the only thing that would have prevented him from being blurred out on public television, which confirmed that unlike Tseng, Reno prefered briefs... something Cloud never wanted to know. About anybody. Ever. 

And the list of differences between the two men grew even longer from there. 

The dark uniform jacket was folded over his arm in an untidy ball, which Cloud imagined was so wrinkled even the drycleaning wouldn't know what to do with it. Only the middle four buttons of his white shirt were clasped, allowing him to showcase both his chiseled collarbone above very well defined pectorals, and tight, lower abdominals where his gaping shirt wasn't tucked in. His clothes were wrinkled in a way that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed, and his bright mane of red hair was haphazardly held back by a set of goggles in a half-cocked attempt to look semi-professional. 

Cloud's first impression of the man was that he was nothing but a lowly lackey of Tseng's, probably not very intelligent and obviously neglectful of his duties. Cloud would have continued to think that had he not looked up at those sharp, malicious eyes and seen calculating intelligence flash across them for a moment as they raked up and down his form, subtly looking for hidden weapons or muscles recoiling for an attack. 

When the man realized Cloud was both defenseless and had noticed his wandering gaze, he attempted to play it off by winking and making an appreciative catcall. The change was so abrupt that Cloud almost wondered if he had imagined the intense look that came shortly before the vulgar leer. 

However, he quickly decided that he really didn't like either of the man's expressions, thank you very much, and he edged slightly further away from the tall stranger, shuffling back on his elbows till his back hit the polished desk. 

He wasn't too sure how this man would react to any sudden movements, So he stayed seated on the floor. That, and the carpeting was rather comfortable, especially considering how his head was still swimming and his throat was dry. Both probably due to his lack of blood and still throbbing bullet wound, but Cloud didn't think the man in front of him would care too much about his discomfort, and he seemed even less likely to fetch him water. So, he decided to keep his pains to himself. 

Cloud tried to swallow a lump of fear in the back of his throat, but only made a nervous gulping noise as the man finally made a move, prowling forwards and leering more intensely than before with Cloud's obvious worry surfacing. 

His blue eyes widened, as the lanky figure grew closer, and his tongue tried to wet nervously trembling, chapped lips. "Um… hi?" Cloud forced out, his voice squeaking embarrassingly. Was that blood smeared on the other man's cheeks? Cloud really didn't want to think about that right now. 

"Why, hello yourself!" The man quipped, eyeing Cloud again in a way that made him wish he hadn’t left his winter coat in Nibelheim. When his eyes finally rested on Cloud's face again, he snorted and shook his head. "You know, I still don't believe it," the man lazily drawled. "When Tseng told me the they didn't fake the video, I thought he was having me on." 

Reno crouched down slowly by his little blonde captive's twitching legs, watching on in amusement as they were jerked as far from his reach as possible, which wasn't that far. 

Cloud tried to press in on himself and further into the desk behind him, but the man was still close, too close for his liking, and his attire was far too immodest for Cloud to feel comfortable looking at him for long. He wanted to keep his eyes on the stranger in case he made a move, but part of him felt like he had when he stumbled across one of his bunk mates magazine collections-- he just wanted to blush and avert his gaze. 

The sight of the redhead stirred something inside of Cloud that he really wasn't willing to think about, and it made him sick to his stomach. It was hard to believe Tseng had actually been wearing the same outfit when Cloud had first seen him. Even in nothing but his boxers and socks, the Wutian man still had looked ten times more proper than the redhead did now, completely clothed. 

Cloud found himself blushing and averting his gaze anyway when the man's shirt fell open a little wider when he crouched, and his lower abdominal muscles flexed almost suggestively. 

The man's smirk only grew at the sight of the blushing blonde, almost knowingly as he watched the constant bobbing of Cloud's adam's apple. "Ya know, I had my bets on the tape being doctored somehow. I mean, it was obvious they didn't actually have the Vice President. But Tseng wasn't convinced, because what kind of a fucking moron sends a fake ransom video?"

The man leaned forward onto the tips of his toes, resting his palms on his knees like a gargoyle as he squinted to get a better look at Cloud. "Now that I see you in person, without that tape and rope covering half your body, I can tell that you're obviously not the VP."

Cloud snorted back bravely, trying to shake away that odd feeling the man's leering was giving him. "What gave that away?"

"Well, your eyes are far too big and innocent," Reno responded, tapping his lips as he perused Cloud's tightly folded up body. A mischievous glint suddenly lit up in the turquoise eyes when their gazes met. "But I may need a closer looksy, ya know? To find any other differences you might be hiding?" There was a moment of silence as understanding and fear settled in Cloud’s already petrified baby blues. 

Then, the redhead pounced.

Cloud didn't have the strength or the stamina to attempt to dodge the hand that shot out and grabbed his ankle, dragging him across the carpet, causing rug burns when his blood stiffened sweater rode up his torso from the friction of the carpet. However, his lack of energy didn't stop him from crying out in panic and rolling onto his stomach, trying to find a hold on the desk's legs as his own were wrenched out from under him. It also didn't stop him from lashing out with his other foot at the man's face. 

"Woah, there!" The man laughed as he grabbed Cloud's other kicking foot and yanked them both hard enough to dislodge him from the desk. "Don't worry, lil’ guy! Uncle Reno won’t hurt you. I just want to get a better look atchya." The man mockingly cooed as he manhandled the smaller boy beneath him.

Cloud didn't care what Reno was saying. He just wanted to get out of there. The man, however, had other plans, which became apparent when the blonde found himself flipped onto his back with a stranger straddling his waist, and his hands forced up against the floor on either side of his head. 

"Yeah, you're definitely not Rufus," the man laughed as he looked into his captives terrified eyes. "The boss man almost always looks pissed, but you look more like you are gonna piss yourself." 

Cloud resented that statement, and bucked his hips angrily in a last ditch attempt to get the stranger to let go, but all it did was cause his captor to lose balance slightly. Much to both of their surprise, Reno jolted forwards at the motion, his face stopping inches above Cloud's own. 

Cloud’s breath caught in his chest, and his heart stuttered to a stop at the new position, feeling the skin of his bare stomach against that of the strangers, and smelling the tar and slight tang of alcohol and cigarettes on the other man's breath.

It took Reno a moment to recover from his surprise, but he eventually found himself laughing at their new position. “Frisky little guy, aren’cha?” Readjusting himself slightly so his full weight wasn't smothering Cloud, but still very present, he grinned down at him. "You should see your face. Now you really look like ya pissed yourself!" Reno chortled. 

"Y-you attacked me!" Cloud defended, trying again to dislodged the man, but failing miserably now that it was expected. 

“You know, because of that, I think I'll call you squirt." Reno joked, ignoring the wiggling and bucking boy beneath him. Well, for the most part. Because there is only so much he could ignore when he had a small, innocent body writhing beneath him. Which didn't happen often, now that he thought about it. Normally, when he was in this sort of position, it was when he was either carrying out a hit or at the honeybee inn, and people in those scenarios tended to be far from the skittish, blushing innocent he had trapped beneath him at the moment. It was endearing. 

"Let go of me!" Cloud shouted, his face burning in embarrassment as he grunted and tried to buck the strange man off of him again. Reno didn't even budge, his legs tightening in a painful hold on Cloud’s hips as he began to wear himself out. 

"Hmm. A country accent. I didn't think about that. It could prove to be problematic if we can't break him of it."

Cloud halted in his attempts to dislodge the strange man from him at the sound of the monotone voice. Moments later, Cloud caught the sight of a highly disapproving Tseng over the redhead's shoulder, adjusting his newly donned tie as he frowned at the two laying sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap. Cloud wondered how long the man had been standing there, watching their struggle. 

Tseng frowned and shook his head. "Reno, be professional," he scolded lightly, almost like he had suspected something like this to happen, but was still disappointed. Possibly more disappointed in himself than Reno, considering he mistakenly left the small injured blonde alone with him and hadn't even thought about the consequences till he was halfway to his office. He had run all the way back to the room, frightened Reno might accidentally kill Cloud in his injured state, and was thus shocked at what the redhead was actually doing. When he caught sight of that he had frozen in the door for a few moments. Sure he was angry at Reno, but by observing the blonde’s fruitless struggles against one of his best Turks, he could figure out what the boy needed to learn when it came to hand to hand combat. And from the looks of it, he had his work cut out for him. 

"And also, please refrain from ever calling yourself 'Uncle Reno,'” Tseng sneered. It was one of the many things he had never expected he would be forced to explain in his life, so it was unsurprising that he was saying it to Reno. ‘It already has juvenile undertones, but it's absolutely lecherous coming from your mouth."

Reno laughed, his whole body shaking, making Cloud squirm uncomfortably at what he hoped to be unintentional grinding against his stomach. "If you had your way, I wouldn't be allowed to talk at all!" Cloud squirmed even more when he hazarded a look up at Reno— who shifted to a seated position on his lower stomach— only to accidentally let his eyes wander down the man's shockingly fit torso that had been rubbing against his own just moments before, straight to the trail of hair just below his navel. 

He blushed and shut his eyes tightly before they could stray any further, becoming increasingly uncomfortable when his heart stuttered at the weight shifting above him. 

Thankfully, the two men didn't notice, or if they did, they decided not to draw attention to the frightened, heavily breathing boy below. 

"I just wanted to get a closer look, yo! He was hard to see with the way you were cradling him like a baby in the helicopter." Reno let up on his grip slightly, and Cloud immediately began trying to shove the man's deceptively heavy weight off of him. "And do you see this? The kid is obviously a flight risk." 

Cloud blushed even harder when one of his prying hands slipped beneath the unbuttoned shirt in his desperate attempts to dislodge the man, accidentally groping a flexed ab in his blind attempts for freedom, which did little to calm his pounding heart as he wiggled out from beneath the other man. It must have been pounding in fear, because Cloud couldn't think of any other emotion he could have been experiencing in such a predicament.

That was when a third person let themselves be heard, snorting derisively. "Like the boy would be able to make it very far in his current condition." 

“Other Boss Man! You came!” Reno crowed, reluctantly withdrawing, but not before humiliatingly patting Cloud on his retreating rump with an open palm, causing the boy to squawk, spin, and fall protectively on his butt. He glared at the redhead distrustfully till Reno moved towards the window, pretending to straighten his suit without any actual success. Tseng also glowered at him all the while from his position by the door, right next to the newcomer— an immaculately dressed blonde man. 

The world seemed to stop for a few moments when Cloud’s eyes landed on the other man's form. To Cloud, it was like looking into a mirror. A unruffled mirror a few years older than him, and one that didn't reflect any dirt, scratches, sweat or blood – but a mirror none the less. 

He came to the abrupt conclusion that this was Rufus, the ‘Shinra Brat’ he had been mistakenly kidnapped because of. 

He had never seen him before, or even heard his name till the incident. What little news clippings Cloud had collected from waiting room magazines and discarded newspapers over the years tended to revolve around Sephiroth, the Silver General. There were also a few articles that included the President of the company posing with the aforementioned General, but that was the extent of Cloud's rather pitiful collection. His mother refused to waste money on magazines when there were much more important things to buy, like food, firewood, and house repairs. 

As Cloud continued to get lost at the appearance of the other figure, he realized that there were very few features that could really be used to distinguish himself from the other, the most noticeable being the tidy, slicked back hair. Normally, Cloud’s own stuck up in every direction, however, currently Cloud suspected even that looked a tad the same— what, with his own hair weighed down and slicked back with a grease that had accumulated from not being able to wash it for days. And it indeed did hold some form of mocking resemblance to the older, platinum haired Adonis that observed him from the doorway, in his expensive, starch white suit. 

The only other thing that was clearly different between the two blondes besides age and height was the aura they exuded. Where the ShinRa Executive stood with an affluent, self-confident assurance that screamed money and a slight thrill of danger, Cloud curled in on himself in an innocent, shy, self-conscious way that screamed victim. It shocked Cloud that two completely different people could look so similar. In fact, it shocked him nearly as much as the next words that escaped the other blonde's lips as he looked down in disgust at his apparent double. 

"This is what you woke me up at three in the morning for, Tseng?” He frowned, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “If it's another one of my father's wayward bastards, kill him. You have my permission to be as creative as you like." The man announced with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I deal with enough coming from Lazard as it is. I don't need another entitled brat running around trying to take the company over."

Cloud felt himself pale, but he didn't bother moving. He knew what Rufus had observed earlier was true. He doubted he would make it far if he tried to run in his current state, and Reno seemed like he would enjoy the prospect of getting to tackle him again. So he stayed silent on the floor, awaiting some kind of a miracle that might get him out of this predicament unscathed. 

Reno chuckled, mumbling rather audibly under his breath at the Vice President's declaration, "Yeah, we don’t need another you running around!"

He was quickly met with a blank look of disinterest from Tseng, and a furious glower from the Vice President. 

Tseng shook his head and diverted his attention from Reno, looking back to Rufus with an excited glint in his eyes. “Despite how… eloquently my subordinate has put it, I actually think the exact opposite. I am sure you could imagine the numerous possibilities we could explore if we used what we have been gifted in this… unusual occurrence.”

Cloud rumpled his brows on the ground. He hadn't though Tseng would be this much of a butt kisser. And a really bad one at that. Nothing he just said made a lick of sense to him, but it seemed to catch the interest of The Vice President, because his eyes widened, and with an understanding nod, Rufus looked back at Cloud.

“You have piqued my interest. Continue,” Rufus all but demanded with a sharp glance at the head of the Department of Administrative Research. 

"I have done everything but a genetics test. According to what little we have on record about her, Ms. Strife wasn't even within a seventy mile radius of your father within the time frame she conceived her first and only child, making it highly improbable you two are related."

Rufus's brow furrowed as he looked the smaller boy over on the floor like an expensive slab of meat that didn't quite meet his high standards. "I would like a blood test to be absolutely sure," he said, crossing his arms and bringing one hand up to tap his chin in consideration. 

Tseng nodded mechanically. "Understood."

Rufus stepped fully into the room and began circling the smaller blonde like a shark, looking for any weakness or flaw while Cloud shifted in unease at the attention. "Would anyone notice if he were to go missing?"

Cloud shivered involuntarily at what he could infer from the question. He was going to die, wasn't he? It seemed much less scary the first time he went through that, back when he was shot by a thug just hours ago. He hadn't had much time to regret, or worry about how long it would take, or how much it would hurt, or what awaited him when he finally kicked the bucket. Now that he did have the time to think about it, knowing what these people were planning to do to him made his breath speed up, and his body shake in sick anticipation. He wondered if he would be able to scare himself to death first. 

"As you know, it is impossible to completely determine the scope of such things. The only thing we know for certain is that his mother is his only known family member, and the town he grew up in was small.” Rufus nodded absently at what Tseng said as he observed Cloud with a mounting interest. “One third of the town’s inhabitants tend to leave when they reach a certain age, with few ever returning. And many things are bound to happen to a small, country boy in a big city. Gangs, drugs, prostitutes, debtors. The list goes on. It won't be hard to convince most of them of an... Unfortunate incident." Tseng stated, watching Cloud with an even more penetrating gaze than Rufus as he verbally dissected the small, now ex-cadet's life, reading into every physical cue and micro-expression in hopes that it might tell him more about the boy’s personal life than what he had on file. 

"Wait... What?" Cloud croaked, looking from face to face in the small room, trying to find some form of comfort there. The closest thing he got to comfort was the wink Reno sent him when he mistakenly looked his way. 

Rufus tutted, strutting closer till he was able to kneel at his new toy's side, plucking at the bullet hole in the shirt and making Cloud nearly jump out of his skin at the contact. "Hmmm. His name?"

"Cloud Strife." Tseng responded. 

There was a moment of silence as Rufus looked at the other blonde in obvious shocked recognition, which faded into barely contained irritation. "Oh, so you are Cloud Strife?"

Cloud wasn't sure if he was suppose to answer or not, but the man's sharp eyes bored into the side of his head for far longer than he was comfortable with. He shakily nodded, trying to escape the other man's gaze by averting his own to the carpet. 

Sadly, Rufus did not like being ignored, which became apparent when his hand shot out and caught Cloud's jaw, forcing his head in the direction he wanted it with a bruising force. "The director of Soldier has been up in arms for the last few days about a missing little Soldier hopeful by that name," he snarled in frustration. "He has been trying to pin the blame on me for your disappearance!" 

Cloud thought to himself that it technically was Rufus's fault, because he would have never been taken if the Vice President hadn't made so many enemies, but he realized that it may not have gone over well with the other man at the moment. So he kept his mouth shut. 

Rufus's hold lightened a fraction, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth down the underside of the smaller blonde’s jaw as he contemplated the boy, pausing to absentmindedly brush where Cloud's neck and jaw intersected with a soft, manicured nail. 

Cloud jolted at the sensitive touch, trying to push the hand away with a sputtering whimper and failing when it tightened its hold again. Rufus only chuckled. "I think it would be fun to let that bastard know that we found his missing little cadet, and watch the look on his face when I inform him of the... tragedy surrounding his disappearance. Don't you agree, Tseng?"

Cloud pitifully gripped at Rufus's wrist, trying desperately to get it to loosen its hold on his jaw. "P-please don't." Cloud wasn't sure who he was begging when he cried out. The terror that had been bubbling in the pit of his stomach coming to full boil at the other man's ominous words. Sure, these didn't seem like the kind of people who would be bothered by a fifteen year old boy, begging them for his life, but Cloud was only fifteen years old, dang it! There were still so many things to do! So many places to see! He didn't want his dream of becoming SOLDIER to die, and he most certainly didn't want to die along with it. The worst part was knowing most of the kids in his village had made bets on if he would die or not. He didn't want to let them win. Not again.

Rufus just ignored the outburst and struggling in favor of letting Cloud's face go with a harsh squeeze and shove, sprawling him sideways, bracing himself on the ground at the force. 

Tseng almost looked at Cloud pityingly before addressing Rufus, but whatever emotion he was attempting never seemed to touch his eyes. "I have already had my people procure a suitable body from the corpses of the kidnapping group. It will be easy to stage an accident."

"Good," Rufus stood, pulling out his pocket square, wiping his hands off on it while stepping over the smaller blonde with disinterest.

"What? Wait, you killed all of them?" Cloud blurted, looking at Tseng in shock and mounting fear. 

Tsengs brow furrowed. "What else should I have done?" The detached Wutian said with a cock of his head. "They were a security threat."

"Not to mention they fucked you up pretty bad, squirt. Almost killed you, yo!" Reno added. 

"So now you're going to finish the job?" Cloud questioned in defeat, wishing he wasn't trembling nearly as bad as he was. He was going to die soon, and—

Tseng ignored Cloud’s near panic attack in favor of frowning at his subordinate. "What did I tell you about talking?"

Reno shifted, looking off into the distance distractedly while cleaning his ear out with a few quick twists of his pinky. "Dunno, boss man. Pro’bly wasn't listening." 

Tseng's eye twitched almost unnoticeably when Reno looked down at his pinky instead of the narrowed eyes of his department head, wiping whatever he found on his finger down the front of his rumpled shirt with a shrug. "I said you sound like a delinquent. Be quiet." 

Reno smirked, "What, don't like the way I talk dirty?" From the way the words were purred, it was hard not to hear the innuendo that was implied. It was about as subtle and unnoticeable as the redhead was himself. 

Deciding not to merit that with a response, Tseng ignored his subordinate's cheek, grinding his teeth and shaking his head as if convincing himself that Reno hadn’t said anything— or possibly imagining how much easier the department would be to run without the degenerate at his side. 

It would have been amusing for Cloud to watch the interaction, had he not been trying to overcome his impending doom.

After a few short moments of silence, things continued like they had never been interrupted, with Rufus loftily announcing, "The accent is atrocious." Which was a rather rude thing to say to someone who was just about to die. It wasn't like Cloud could do much about it anyway, but it was one of the many things his squad had picked on him for, and it made him self consciously snap his mouth shut.

"I will have to see if I can break him of it, obviously,” Tseng said with a nod, which hurt Cloud more when he realized he must agree with the Vice President on that point. “If worst comes to worst, he can just stand in for you at the office and wear the bracelet. If anyone checks on your whereabouts, they will see him and suspect that you are keeping to the agreement."

"Bracelet? Agreement?" Cloud questioned, quickly getting lost at this conversation’s ever changing direction. Because now it sounded like he might not die.

"Tracking bracelet. You see, the VP—"

“It’s a security feature,” Tseng interrupted Reno with a scowl, folding his arms, almost daring the other to say differently. 

Reno didn’t disappoint. He scoffed again, folding his arms and shifting his weight till one hip jutted out, taking the stance of a defiant teenager. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now! Riiiiight!” He overly exaggerated a secretive wink at Tseng, making air quotations while repeating, “Security feature. Got it.” 

Cloud wasn't an idiot. He knew tracking bracelets were generally reserved for people who were caught doing something illegal. Reno seemed to be of the same mind that Cloud would see through the lie, but Tseng appeared to be hoping that he was either too scared to question its legitimacy, or just gullible enough to believe him. 

And Tseng had been very much right. Cloud was pretty darn scared, but it didn't stop his mind from racing. A bracelet meant Rufus had done something bad enough to warrant tracking his every move, insuring someone would catch him if he tried to do it again. And if Tseng was covering it up, it must have been really bad. Possibly bad enough that knowing it would cause his already very probable death. 

Cloud shook his head, eyeing all of the men in the room a little more suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?" Everyone looked at him, but ignored the words coming out of his mouth. Well, everyone but Reno, who was smirking at the adorable look of confusion wrinkling the blonde’s brow.

Rufus spoke up again after a moment of silent conspiring. “Now that I think about it, could you kill him off in a Soldier based training incident? The bad press will keep Lazard off my back for a few months at least. And, he would be forced to pay off the family of the deceased with his departments funds, which would amuse me to no end." A cruel smirk crept across the man’s feature at the thought.

Tseng tilted his head back, crunching the numbers to himself before replying with, "That can be arranged."

Cloud’s blood ran cold. So now he was going to die because of a feud between departments? "No! Please! I don't want to die!” Cloud almost sobbed. He just wished he was back home, with his mother. Sure he wanted to prove his hometown wrong and make something of himself, but none of this had been mentioned in the SOLDIER brochure. “I will forget everything you just said, I swear! Just let me go!"

The first one to break the long, shocked silence after his outburst was Rufus, who actually chuckled softly as he stared down at Cloud with a piteous, almost endearing glance. ”How could I possibly kill someone who looks so much like myself?” he mocked narcissistically.

He spun on his heel as he made to leave, looking at Tseng from over his shoulder. “I am still not completely convinced it will work, but I will leave him in your more than capable hands, Tseng. Don’t waste more time and money on this than needed.” He cast one calculating glance at the very confused looking, almost mirror image that trembled on the floor of his office before adding, “I will give you a week to convince me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Three weeks.” Tseng bartered.

Rufus paused in surprise at being challenged, tapping his foot while he considered the amendment. “Hmmm… I’ll go as high as two, but If this plan of yours shows no sign of fruition by that time, you will be forced to terminate this project with your own hands. You are one of my department heads. I can't have you unnecessarily distracted for longer than the time allotted. Do I make myself clear?”

Tseng paused to consider the new stipulation, and nodded.

“Good.” Rufus nodded, exiting the room before pausing once more. “Oh, and Tseng?”

“Yes, sir?”

“There better not be a speck of blood or filth on my carpet in the morning. And the next time I see your little pet project, I expect him to be well groomed. Not the mangy mutt you have presented me with today.” Without waiting for a response, Rufus was gone, leaving a very confused Cloud in his wake.

“Wait… does this mean you aren't going to kill me?” Cloud said in a rather confused exhale of breath.

Reno’s shark like grin flashed in the darkness as he barked out a laugh. “Not for another two weeks, at least, Squirt.”

Cloud flinched like he had been struck, folding in on himself pitifully. “I just survived a kidnapping and was shot, only to be saved by some lunatics that plan on killing me in two weeks? Yup, sounds like my kind of luck. I'm definitely not dreaming,” Cloud grumbled under his breath, pinching himself anyway just to be sure. On the plus side, in two weeks he wouldn't wake up screaming from his night terrors anymore. He looked up into Tseng’s eyes regretfully. “I wish you had let me bleed out.” 

Tseng shook his head at the melodramatic teen, pinching the bridge of his nose at the twinge of a headache. “Reno, for your wonderful display of insubordination today, you have the task of cleaning the dirt off of the carpet.”

“Wouldn't you much rather I scrub our dirty, little Cloud first?”

Tseng let out a dry, unamused scoffing noise. “I figured you had enough problems taking care of your own personal hygiene. I would hate to task you with the burden of looking after someone else's.” Tseng crossed the room to Cloud’s side, bending down to evaluate the bullet wound, which had torn open slightly during his scuffle with Reno and was bleeding anew. The boy tried to push away his questing hand, but ultimately failed. He was obviously both mentally and physically exhausted, so he was unable to put up much of a fight. In fact, He was barely able to sit up-right. “You have two hours before dawn, Reno. You’d best get started if you don't want to incite the Vice President’s wrath.”

Tseng slowly maneuvered one hand beneath the sleepy boy’s legs, and the other was used to cradle his back in a way that it allowed Cloud’s unsupported head to lull into the crook of his neck, his body going limp in its misplaced trust for his sort-of savior. He stopped fighting the urge to struggle and gave into his captive’s grip, letting his eyes drift shut.

“Wha’s gonna happen?” He mumbled into the man’s neck, who stiffened sharply at the warm, intimate feeling of breath by his ear.

Tseng paused before answering, his eyes softening at the sight of the small, innocent creature he was planning on exploiting with Shinra’s best interest at heart. Normally, he wouldn't have felt this conflicted, but something about the way the cold, defenseless body snuggled instinctively into the warmth of his constricting hold, all the while unknowingly and innocently caressing his neck with each labored breath caused him to pause.

His throat tightened at the thought of what might occur in two weeks time if he didn't convince the Vice President.

No. It wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Though... even if his hand was forced, it wasn't like it was personal. Just business. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the treasonous thoughts. He'd never had a problem taking care of official Turk business before, and he wouldn't let this be the first occurrence.

None the less, he found himself turning his head, his steady voice lulling the boy to sleep as he exited the office and made his way to the lift, a cheekily smirking Reno in his wake. “You’re going to become a Turk,” Tseng muttered softly into the surprisingly silky tresses that framed the boy’s worryingly pale features, reminding Tseng of how much blood was lost earlier.

“Hey! Send me a picture of bath time, yo! It's not fair that you get to—”

And, with the ding of a bell, the elevator's door snapped shut, muffling the sound of the imbecile and sending them several floors away before Tseng could consider dropping Cloud in favor of shooting someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist a little Tseng lovin' at the end :)
> 
> Once again, I would like to thank everyone for their likes and reviews. It gives me warm fuzzies knowing you guys are interested. If you drop me a line, let me know what you might want to see in the story and I will see what I can do!


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